


Immortal Hearts

by RestlessBluebird



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RestlessBluebird/pseuds/RestlessBluebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life for an immortal can be rough enough without adding complications of the heart. Will the temptation of love break Saren's resolve, or can love truly conquer all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immortal Hearts

Falling in love was not part of Saren's plan. Granted that it had been centuries since he'd stuck to an actual plan, but falling in love was never _ever_ an option. There were too few immortals to risk a falling out with, even though he'd known some who did and managed to remain on friendly terms after. Mortals on the other hand, were never an option...at least for him. Too messy, too fragile, too much possibility for disaster. He had consoled few of his brethren once their mortal partners had passed. He had seen the pain, the anguish first hand and it was not something he relished experiencing. And it was also why, when he first laid eyes on the handsome turian with the gorgeous green eyes, he kept walking.  
  
\-----

It's two weeks, three days and nine hours before he sees him again, not that he's counting and not that it matters. Saren is in his favorite bookstore. He's seen it be many things: twice a restaurant, a dry cleaners, a bakery, a coffee shop and even a sporting goods store; the bookstore is by far his favorite incarnation. He's a regular here now. Sometimes he browses, looking over dusty titles few have ever heard of, let alone read. He'd even donated a few books of his own personal collection when a sudden urge to declutter the junk accumulated over a few decades came over him. He looks over them even now, feeling pangs of nostalgia as he runs a well-manicured talon down their spines. Today, he's camped in his "spot," sitting cross legged in his favorite corner under the window. He looks up, halfway through some best-selling blockbuster about a murderer preying on rich assholes who's ending he's pegged since page 57, and sees the handsome turian again. He can barely hear them talking, but he can hear the rich undertones in his voice clear as day. After he finishes his transaction and leaves, Saren approaches the cashier.

"Hey, Mr. Arterius. Find something you like today?"

Saren glances at the book in his hand and puts it on the counter, along with his credit chit. "Sort of." A few beeps and the rustling of bags, and his purchase is complete. "Would you be able to tell me the name of the man you just served?"

"And here I thought it was a book that caught your attention," the cashier grins at him. Saren groans and she laughs before saying, "His name is Nihlus."

\------

The handsome name's name was Nihlus. Saren was excited, yet not quite sure what to do with his new found information and not quite sure how he should feel about wanting it. _It's just a name to a face_ , he tells himself. _A simple memory, it means nothing, nothing will happen_.

\------

The next time Saren sees Nihlus, it's in a coffee shop. Saren is standing in line, growing more and more impatient as the delicious aromas of coffee and fresh baked pastries fill the air and not his stomach. He doesn't even need to think about his order; dark roast, two cream, four sugars and a toasted croissant. Three hundred thirty two years and his coffee order still remains the same. He's developed a sweet tooth in recent years though, and his gaze lingers a little too long on the cheese danishes. _Change is good_ , he thinks to himself, as he contemplates getting there early tomorrow to grab a fresh pastry first thing in the morning.

When his number is finally called, he grabs his order and makes his way out of the quickly filling shop. He barely gets a chance to savor the first few drops of coffee when someone falls into him, spilling their drink on the both of them in the process. The coffee shop quiets and Saren stand, brushing himself off with quiet authority, preserving his dignity in the process.

When he reaches down to help the other man, he is met by gorgeous green eyes.  
\------

He's sticky, they're both sticky, and smell like sugar and milk and blueberries but by the Spirits, he hasn't laughed this much in years. They're sitting in the back of the cafe, talking about anything and everything. Nihlus, he discovers, has a way with words and Saren hangs off every one.  
  
It's hours before they leave, the smells of buttered pastries are slowly replaced by sizzling meats and robust sauces.

\------

They start dating immediately; only Saren never calls it that. Drinks with a friend, dinner with a friend, and movies with a friend; that's what he calls it if he was asked, not that anyone ever asks him. Saren works days as a network administrator for a security firm, so his time is limited before 5pm, and some weekends before significant upgrades. Nihlus doesn't mind; he works days as well as an architect.  
\------

It's over when they kiss for the first time, plates crashing over plates, bodies molding desperate to each other. They're in front of Nihlus's apartment in the pouring rain, kept dry only by Saren's over-preparedness. Nihlus fiddles with the key and turns to say goodbye to his companion when, in a moment of recklessness, he grabs Saren by the collar. The umbrella falls and Saren kisses back hard. They're soaked and it's freezing but neither of them really care.  
  
\------

It's Saren who inevitably makes the call for clarity.  
"What are we to each other? Where do you see this going?" he asks over breakfast. Nihlus has pulled out all the stops: fresh fruit, toast, bacon and cheese covered eggs.

Saren wants a hard no, but he's smart enough to know that he isn't going to get it. He knows it's going to hurt; maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but it's going to. And judging by the way Saren's heart flutters when Nihlus tells him he loves him for the first time, it's going to hurt bad.  
  
\------

After a century or so, one eventually finds the passing of each moment dreadfully slow. Eventually, all who live long enough tend to remember time based on events. The changing of seasons, wars, new inventions and the like are the most common terms of measurement. Besides, measuring every single painful moment of your almost infinite life was at best dull and at worse, extremely depressing. Before meeting Nihlus, Saren agreed with this logic. However, his method of keeping time slowly began to change. The first time he met Nihlus's parents from the time they moved in together was a year. They got their first pet, a baby varren named Dax, six months after that.  Saren proposes to Nihlus on their seven year anniversary and Nihlus accepts. They take a trip to Noveria in their ninth year where Nihlus sprains his ankle in a skiing contest with Saren. Saren gets named godfather of Nihlus's niece in their thirteenth year and, in their fifteenth they decide to adopt a child of their own.  
\------  
  
Falling in love was not part of Saren's plan. Granted that it had been centuries since he'd stuck to an actual plan, but falling in love was never _ever_ an option. He'd steeled his treacherous heart against such weakness, convinced himself it was unnecessary. He had friends, associates. He lived a fulfilling life. There was no need for romantic love, Saren believed. Not for him at least. As he lay in bed in Nihlus's arms, listening to the sounds of their children playing in the living room, he knew then just how wrong he was. He wouldn't have it any other way.  
\------

As the years spin to decades, Saren's greatest fear began to come to pass. Nihlus's movements begin to slow, his plates slowly losing their once lustrous sheen. Their three children had long since moved out, becoming professionals in their fields.  Saren could remember in photographic detail, the birth of each of their four grandchildren and two great grandchildren. Nihlus is busy washing dishes, his cane leaning against the counter, when Saren slips his arms around his husband's waist and nuzzles at his neck. Nihlus holds one wet, soapy hand to Saren’s then goes back to washing the final dish. He places it on the drying board and turns into Saren's arms. They embrace in silence, contented and loving subharmonic rumbles more than enough share how they feel. They've come to enjoy these quiet moments together. It's been 71 years, and Nihlus still lights up when Saren enters the room and Saren still blushes when Nihlus smiles at him.  
  
The children come by to visit once a week, or once every other week, to check in with their parents and bring them goodies from their travels. Nihlus is a fan of fruity teas while Saren has, in his later years, finally succumb to his sweet tooth. He can almost smell the chocolates before he unwraps the box. Other than that, they mostly stay in. Nihlus's legs are weak now, and Saren can't support him like he used to when he was younger. Part of him wants to take off his device and tell his lover everything. He doesn't; it's more trouble than either of them need, more stress than a tired old body should need to handle. After all, Nihlus is 102, slightly younger than Saren's 116 but still old. Nihlus still teases him about being an "old man," to which Saren replies "as long as I'm your old man."  
\------

In the morning, if Saren wakes up before Nihlus, he starts his husband's tea kettle. Nihlus does the same for him, but Saren's method doubles as an alarm clock. Nihlus wakes up after about 20 seconds of whistling; he’s always been a sound sleeper. Saren starts the tea one morning, and then takes a shower before breakfast, hoping to get to the hot water first. His shower takes 20 minutes; the kettle is whistling when he emerges, yet Nihlus has not gotten up. Back in the bedroom, Nihlus remains sleeping, unmoved from when Saren first got up. Saren jostles him gently at first, then harder while yelling for him to wake up. Nihlus doesn't move and Saren can't stop crying.

\------

The funeral is a small, private affair; all children and surviving relatives are in attendance. The parlor is covered in roses and lilies and mums and even some especially imported flowers from Palaven the same color as Nihlus's eyes. Saren is stoic throughout, though his voice cracks repeated through the eulogy. He clenches his fists, furrows his brows, failing to keep himself from keening as he makes his speech.    
  
\-----

Home is just the same when he returns, but quieter. He hasn't really gotten over the shock of it all, but there are things to be done. He wants to hide his emotions, needs to. _There are procedures to follow, processes to begin_ , but he can't move from the bed. He calls the Cleaners and takes two sleeping pills before crawling under the covers. He clutches Nihlus's pillow, nuzzling it softly, as he waits for the sweet reprieve of sleep to overtake him.  
  
\------  
  
Morning comes too soon for Saren, who wakes to find the Cleaners already at his door. He signs countless papers, initials countless forms and, once again, has to have his fingerprints taken. He's annoyed at the process, but is thankful that most of it was already done. He'd just confirmed his plans a month ago, but it feels much longer than that now. He tries to focus on the process and not the pain, but the pain still manages to slide through. With the final orders in place, the Cleaners hand him a small red box and leave, letting the house once descend into silence.  
\------

Days come and days go and the hurt has turned to numbness. He spends his days at Nihlus's grave, bringing a thermos of his late husband's favorite: blueberry with milk and three sugars. He pats the ground, his head resting on the marble tombstone. At night he returns home, eating just enough, never wanting to disturb much in the house. He wants it preserved, a solid unchanging point in time. He contemplates the box, contemplates his future, his past. He remembers the coffee shop, now a pet store, and smiles. He takes the box into the bedroom, opens it and takes a deep breath. The syringe inside is light, there's not much fluid in the chamber. He traces his cracking plates, pulls the plunger and presses it into his neck. The fluid feels cold, and the cold begins traveling through his blood stream. He feels sluggish and the light begins to fade. He closes his eyes and sheds a final tear, Nihlus's name the last work on his lips as the darkness takes him.  
\------  
  
Falling in love was never part of Saren's plan, let alone falling in love with a human. Love was weakness, a mistake.   
  
And it had been the best mistake of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this prompt, courtesy of one of the endless AU prompts floating around Tumblr. However, I altered it a bit to fit my vision. 
> 
> Here is the original prompt in all it's glory:
> 
> "I'm immortal, you’re mortal and we kind of fell for each other but this is gonna get real complicated when you’re 80 and I’m still a teenager because well I’m not sure how to say this but you do realize you’ll age and die and I’ll be left alone again right” 
> 
> There's probably a sequel coming at some point in time, but I haven't fleshed out all the details yet :x


End file.
